Old Goats

October 23, 2015 at 6:56 am (Cosmic Encounters)

Pre-concert rituals ain’t what they used to be.

Knotty Boy

Knotty Boy

Yesterday was the Slipknot show, and it was a glorious visit to a time past, when the music was loud and fans were excited. Corey Taylor mentioned right off the bat how the band had once been banned from Portland. (Specifically the Roseland, who didn’t appreciate the boys spraying each other with lighter fluid onstage in such tight quarters. That was before Great White became America’s hottest band.) This was not the ‘Knot of 1999. These boys had grown, musically and otherwise, into thoughtful men.

With big explosive noisemakers!

It’s become a common refrain: “It wasn’t loud enough!” Slipknot was loud enough, but not so loud it hurt. My biggest obstacle was the perky security guard poised five rows away. It looked like she was staring at me. Constantly.

There was no shortage of green-friendly party favors. I’d gone to the weed store for Vitonic, but that well has dried. I’d thought of asking around for psychedelics, but haven’t done those in ten years, and have kinda lost interest. Joe the budtender took me aside; “Check this out, concentrate in peppermint oil. Do three or four drops. 75 drops in a vial, twenty bucks.” He took my last eighteen dollars, because he’s cool like that.

The problem was I couldn’t tell how many drops I was taking. I could taste mint, so I waited until I got home, and put the drops in a spoon. I’d hate to drink half the bottle by accident and pass out before the show. Mmmkay, let’s see what happens.

The other party favor, the one old guys like me now get excited about? Pain pills.

Lily, one of our regulars at work, is an occasional pill source. She runs a dive hotel above a city tourist attraction next to a porno theater, and houses about half my co-workers. Her son’s recent hernia has been a blessing to me. He’s a junkie, and can’t use the Vicodin they give him, so I give them $$ for something they can use in exchange. Oh, and these are 10 mg Vics. My favorite… Considering what they charged me, I think they may have overlooked the strength… Oopsie! I had squirreled away five of them for the show, and it had been an ordeal hanging onto them. “Oh, I could eat just one…” As I rode the train to town, cruising with two under my belt, I was glad I’d shown restraint.

Slipknot backstageThe show was great. Suicidal Tendencies didn’t play the “Pepsi song”, and I question the authenticity of some of the band members. Three surfer dudes who weren’t even born when the Pepsi song came out, and two old dudes in skater shorts and bandanas. The guitarist was good, but the lead vocalist was most fun to watch. He reminded me of Colin Quinn playing Robert DeNiro playing Axl Rose. “Aye yi yi, aye aye aye.

Slipknot’s set was a culling of old and new; wish I’d heard AOV, loved Duality, really missed hearing Sulphur and Dead Memories. With a stage full of bouncing clowns and deranged serial killer-dudes wielding musical axes, enough fire to recreate an airplane crash and a soundtrack living up my billing of “like standing in a jet engine, playing with a chainsaw,” my musical itch got scratched.

My drug itch? Not so much. My miracle combo is becoming blase, and I feel better when I don’t do so many meds. Since the Vitonic well dried up, I’ve been doing fewer medibles. I remember when I quit drinking and just puffed the bud for fun, and how great I felt then. I remember detoxing from Vitonic after 300 mg a day for a year or so. How when I woke up I had so much energy it felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. (At least I hope that’s what was happening.) Maybe it’s time to get back to that. Because getting high should never be boring. And having that kind of energy and enthusiasm in the morning has been missing of late.

Not to mention how much I HATE spending money to feel normal. Normal should be free.

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